Boys Doing Savory Magic
by iWannaPetYourPetPeacock
Summary: Harry Potter didn't know what he was expecting when he walked into Britain's most famous BDSM club, The Chamber of Secrets. Imagine his surprise when he catches the attention of the notorious dominant, Tom Riddle. Tom/Harry, AU, No Magic, Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Tom/Harry**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything

**Warnings**: Taboo material (BDSM) that might be weird for some people, and of course, Harry's potty mouth.

**Notice READ ME PLEASE**: So I got his idea when I did my term psych paper on BDSM. Yea, i had the most interesting paper ever. But anyways, I did a lot of research, it was such a crazy topic, and I'm generally really curious, and I'd like to think I have an open mind and yea...it was pretty fun. I learned a lot of things conducting my research, and idk, the idea just literally popped into my head; a BDSM story about Tom and Harry. I think it's going to be fun. I'm just going to say up front, I going to be dealing with different aspects, stereotypes and events that circle around the lifestyle. I'm strickly speaking from opinion and imagination, however i will be honoring what I feel like is the essence of the BDSM lifestyle; trust. It's different for different people, and there is NO one correct view on what the lifestyle is or should be. So, lets go on this journey together, and I hope you guys have fun and tell me what you think! the good the bad, the questions the comments, i want to know it all!

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**Chapter One:**

**_"If you can even call that scrap of material you're wearing, panties."_**

Harry Potter sighed. He couldn't believe he was doing this. How the hell did he end up in these damn situations? His friends once accused him of having a 'hero complex.' W-what the bloody knickers did that even mean? When people needed help, he helped. He liked helping! That shouldn't be a bad thing. Or, if it was a bad thing, then maybe…just bloody maybe people should getting themselves into stupid predicaments (like the one he had just involved himself with) and give his so called complex a much needed break. Because really, if his friends _knew_ that he just lacked the self control to stop helping people, then they were really taking advantage of him in his weakened state. Yep that sounded about right. He'd talk to Ron and Hermione about his epiphany later. First…he had a girl to save.

"Are you _sure_ this is the right place?" Harry asked dubiously. It wasn't that he didn't trust the intel because although a righteous prick when he wanted to be, Draco Malfoy was always one to keep his word. Coupled with the fact that his father (an even _grander_ prick) was some major businessman, and therefore hand his hand and eye on everything that went on. And _that _meant so did the younger Malfoy. Harry knew his blonde (albeit aggravating) friend's connections and information was limitless. But still…this place?

Well perhaps 'place' wouldn't be the right way to describe it as there wasn't really a _place_ that he could see. What he was looking at was a dark shabby alley, complete with an eerie stray cat…and that was all. Diagon Alley was the epitome of empty. No entrances, no windows. Not even a bouncer. And assuming that, what did Draco say it was again…oh yea, the Chamber of Secrets! Assuming that the Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a secret like it's name implied, didn't that mean that a secret place that need protecting would have a few fucking bouncers protecting the joint. For what seemed liked the millionth time in the span of just half an hour, Harry sighed. Loudly. So loudly in fact that the blonde prat smacked him on the back of his head. "Owww!" he whined. Draco merely scoffed.

"I'm out here, freezing-" it was only 60 degrees out, "did all that work finding out where the place was-" Harry was sure that Draco's unfortunate man-slave Dobby was the _real_ person that did all the work, "and all you can do is bitch and moan. Harry Potter you are quite inconsiderate." Harry just stared blankly at Draco's pale scrunched up face.

And sighed again.

"That's it, I'm leaving! You can find your own bloody way in!" Draco scowled irritably before turning around. Harry would have liked nothing better than to get rid of Draco at the moment. He was insufferable on a good day, but completely _unbearable_ when he was filled with (what he thought) righteous indignation. But Ginny Weasley, sister to his best mate was supposedly in the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry meant to rescue her. And if that meant sucking it up and stroking Draco's ego while simultaneously putting up with his shit, then so be it.

"Ok, ok," he said quickly, grabbing on Draco's coat jacket to prevent him from deserting him. His grip wasn't firm, but the aristocrat stopped anyway and allowed himself to be pulled back next to Harry. The displeased scowl was still on his face, but there was a hint of mischievousness in the gray eyes that let Harry know Draco hadn't really been about to leave. This time Harry resisted the urge to sigh. No one would have ever guessed that Draconis Malfoy was one for theatrics and melodrama. "You're right, I'm being a prat, and you're helping me. Thanks for that by the way," he added sincerely. Because without Draco, Harry would have been as lost as he had been on his Algebra II midterm. "I don't doubt your information. It just that," he gestured down the dank alley. The eerie cat was _still_ looking…well eerie. "This doesn't seem like a place where the elite of Britain's society would spend their night. I mean, I couldn't imagine _you_ coming to a place like this."

Draco looked down the alley way before nodding sagely. "You're right. I wouldn't be caught alive or _dead _here." He turned to look at Harry, all former playful irritation gone. "But this _is_ the right place. So we're here, we just need to find the front door." Against Harry's desire, together the dynamic duo walked down the alley looking vigilantly for any signs of people. Or a door that would hopefully _lead_ them to people. He'd take either at this point.

But five minutes later the whole alleyway was scanned and they found nothing of use. Disgruntled and depressed Harry agreed without a fuss when Draco suggested they should head back and do a little reconnaissance. Translation; let's go to the ritzy hotel they passed down the street so I can call Dobby, send him into a downward spiral with my mean words, and hope that something turns up.

The walk down the street was done in a defeated silence. The tense air being broken only when Draco went to the front desk, demanded the most lavish room and room service. Then the elevator ride up was done in silence. A loud '_ding'_ alerted Harry to the arrival of the floor and they exited, tiredly trudging to their room.

As requested the room was beyond lavish; fit for a king, which the Malfoy heir truly felt he was. But all the splendor, beauty, and comfort of the room only made Harry feel worse and more despondent. Here he was trying to save his best mate's baby sister, only to _not_ save her and wind up laying face down on the softest bed he'd ever thrown himself on, waiting for (Draco's) lobster to be delivered to the room. He couldn't imagine how Ginny must be feeling at the moment.

Actually he could.

Wherever she might be, Harry imagined that she was scared and lonely out of her mind. That right then at that very moment, she was mentally scolding herself for talking to men online, and for being a stupidly romantic sixteen year old girl who was naïve enough to agree to meet with them in person. After being hard on herself, she would then no doubt be wondering frantically when Harry was going to come and save her, because _that's what he did_.

Except this time he couldn't. This time he _didn't_. And so while Ron and Hermione were pretending to be out hanging with Ginny so as to no alert Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry was supposed to be finding their daughter and bringing her safely home. But damn, he couldn't even _find_ the place where he thought she might be! It was all so frustrating and-

_Knock knock, _"Room service." Reluctantly Harry pulled himself off the bed and went to go answer the door knowing that Draco wouldn't.

Standing at the door was an oddly peculiar looking blond young lady in the hotel staff uniform. Oddly peculiar because she had sunflower seeds hanging from her lobes like earrings. There was also this weird smile on her face. Not creepy weird, but like maybe she was a little touched in the head. He was instantly glad it was him that opened the door because Draco would have been merciless to her. Especially since she didn't have a tray lobster with her. Odd.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. Her voice even sounded odd; dreamlike like she was somewhere else, _not _the same reality Harry was in. "I hear you're searching for a secret."

Harry didn't really know how to respond to that, so he said nothing.

"I know. It's really hard to find apparently. At least that's what the nargles tell me."

He wanted to call 911 and get the girl some help, but he also wanted to keep listening to her. As loony as she appeared to be, she was rather intriguing. And really, it's not like he had anything better to do at the moment then indulge a stranger by playing along.

"So this…secret. Do you know what it is by any chance?"

"Oh yes," she said with a bright smile before cryptically adding, "it's your secret. The one you're looking for."

Harry was floored and he felt his breath hitch. The girl just continued smiling on, either really oblivious to his sudden almost panic, or just uncaring that she close to making him hyperventilate. Suddenly this didn't seem to far from reality at all.

He cleared his throat and his head before asking her in a hushed tone. "Do you…is it possible that the…_nargles_ know where they can find, um…my secret? I seem too have…forgotten where it is."

"Oh of course! That's why I'm here. To tell you where to find your secret. The nargles want to help you. After all, it's no coincidence that you're here tonight, right now. Do you believe in coincidence, Harry?" He felt like he should have been weirded out that a complete and utter stranger knew his name but there was no time for that. He was all out of options and if the only lead he had was from some stranger who might or might not be crazy, he was going to jump on it.

"…Sometimes," he said truthfully. "But not right now." She seemed pleased by his answer, and her smile became even more radiant.

"That's really good Harry. The nargles were right about you. You need to go _back_ the way you came. Look _harder_. Look for the platform."

Harry's brow knitted together in confusion. "What platform?"

"The platform nine and three quarters. _Look _for it. And when you find it, don't be fooled by its appearance. Go back…all the way back. And then go down…_all_ the way down. And finally go straight…all the way straight. And when you see the two ogres guarding the red door, give them the name of the greatest snake that ever was or ever will be. That's how you find you're secret Harry. Goodbye," and she turned around, long blonde hair swishing behind her. He was about to call out for her when he realized she hadn't told him her name.

"What are you still doing at the door Harry? Has my food arrived? I'm quite famished," Draco complained, totally unaware of the cosmic exchange he had just missed.

Without a shred of hesitation or disbelief, Harry turned to look at his friend. "I know how to get there. I know how to get to the Chamber of Secrets."

"Really? Well that's great? How'd you figure it out?"

"…A nargle told me," Harry responded solemnly, to which Draco just looked confused before looking unconcerned.

"…Ok, let's get down to business."

Harry couldn't resist the temptation. "To defeat the Huns." The blank stare he received informed Harry that he needed a new friend/roommate; someone who got all his cheesy Disney lines. As a person who was just now experiencing the joys of old man Walt, it was kind of a necessity that he had someone to share that with. And as just witnessed in exhibit A, Draco wasn't cutting it.

"Pay attention Harry we've got a lot of work to do." Well this didn't bode well. Nothing ever boded well when Draco talked in his mother-hen voice. "First, new clothes! Give me a second, I'm going to text Dobby and tell him to pick us up a few things."

"I don't think new clothes are necessary. It's _just_ a club. I walk in, find Ginny, and we walk out together. No big deal. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that this was going to be some James Bond or Mission Impossible thing."

An irritated look crossed Draco's face as he sent his message and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "You see, and THIS is why you need me Harry. Did you honestly think you'd just be able to _walk _in the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry nodded. "Walk in dressed like _that_." His attire wasn't _that_ bad. Did he look like was going to smoosh it up with some upper-class snobs, no. But his jeans were nice, his trainers were clean, and he was wearing his favorite shirt. The one with the lion in it. He looked like any other university student. So Harry nodded again.

Of course he did.

It was Draco's sighed turn to sigh. "Of course you did. Well it doesn't work that way. The Chamber of Secrets isn't just some _club_. It's a well known fetish bar for the elite."

"…Wait, what?"

"Dammit Harry, keep up! How could you not know Ginny was going to a fetish bar, if you were the one that was going looking for her?" Draco asked incredulously. Harry managed to look offended.

"Why on earth would I know that? All Ron did was tell me the name of the place. Said it was some club Ginny was apparently trying to get into."

"And then you just came to me, asking me to find it? Tell me something Harry, tell me…how do you think Ron knew the name of the club, hmm? Because even he was smart enough to actually _read_ the emails that Ginny had been writing. But it's obvious you didn't since they _clearly _state that the Chamber of Secrets is in fact, a _fetish bar_! A _BDSM_ club! And if you're going to a fetish bar, you need to look the part."

The next thirty minutes while they waited for Dobby to arrive, the Malfoy heir ordered Harry into the shower to freshen up. By the time he emerged, the parcels were there along with a rather red faced Dobby. Just looking at his countenance made Harry fearful about what Draco had asked him to purchase.

He just could not believe that it was _that_ bad. So it was a fetish bar (whatever that meant) or BDSM club (whatever that meant too) for rich old snobs. Harry still didn't see why Draco thought he needed to play dress up to get in and he said as much.

The expression on Draco's face was murderous. Thankfully looks _couldn't _kill. His friend stalked over to a petrified looking Dobby and the parcels he'd bought and began rummaging around in them like a mad man, muttering some colorful words that Harry didn't even know Draco possessed in his vocabulary. Deep in a bag, Draco finally stopped tossing around its contents and walked back to Harry with a book in his hand. Just by looking at the cover, Harry understood what had made Dobby's face heat up. His own face was doing the same thing.

On the cover of the book was a woman what looked like a shiny latex suit. There was something in her mouth that looked like a ball, and her hands were held over her head, cuffed at the wrists. Standing behind her was a strong and dreamy looking man with a…bloody hell, with a _whip_! Harry's vibrant green eyes bulged out his head. _This_ was what a 'fetish' was? _This_ was what Ginny was trying to get into? Oh for fucks sake.

While Harry took in the cover of the book, Draco took in his visage which only seemed to grow more bewildered by the time the raven haired boy started reading the back of the book. Finally, it looked like Harry was really starting to understand what they were dealing with.

"Glad to see you're taking this in. It's about time. I've been practically carrying all the weight of this operation; it's time for you to do your part." Draco stared at Harry with steely grey eyes that broke for no argument. "Now you're going to try on those clothes, and save Ginny or by gods I'll tie you up and drop you off at the front door with a ribbon on your neck and card that says 'Christmas came early, love Santa.' Do I make myself clear?"

Harry just gulped. "Draco, you really can't expect me to do this. It's utter madness. _Madness!_" Harry wailed, albeit non to manly. He'd find another way to save Ginny. Any way that didn't require him wearing whatever Draco had in those bags!

"Well Harry I don't see any other options."

"That's because we haven't thought of all of the options yet!"

The blonde growled in frustration, his patience waning in the face of his stubborn raven haired friend. "Then don't do anything Harry; just leave her there!"

Harry paused in his tirade, mouth agape with a look of bewildered disbelief on his face. "Draco?" he gasped affronted. "How could you even suggest a thing like that! Of _course_ we can't just leave her to those wolves, she'll-"

"She will get what she deserves!" Draco interrupted hotly. "This is all her fault. Who told the Weasel's little sister to start chatting it up with men over the internet, hmm? No one. Who persuaded her to actually go and _meet_ with those people? Nobody. There was _no one_, and _nobody_ that held a gun to her stupid little head and made her do those things. She _chose_ to make those decisions and she should suffer the consequences for her actions. Face it Harry, Ginny all but walked into the den of those so called 'wolves' in a red cloak, asking to be devoured alive. We're nineteen year old sophomore college students at university, with a test tomorrow that, I for one, am not ready for. We should be in our flat, studying, not out gallivanting around on one of your 'save bloody everyone missions!' _Especially_ ones that some little ditz _literally _walked right into like some sacrificial red-colored lamb sent to slaughter."

Harry was utterly floored by his friend's passionate dismissal of Ginny's plight. People made dumb choices. In this case, Ginny made a _really _dumb choice. He blamed it on the secret stash of romance novels she thought were cleverly hidden under her bed. But Harry didn't believe that she should be condemned for it. She deserved the chance to learn from her mistake _without_ being traumatized in the process no matter what and he'd do _whatever_ it bloody took to make that happen, else his name wasn't Harrison James Pot-

Understanding dawned on Harry like a new day. He looked at his accomplice in a new light. "Oh, I see what you did there."

Draco smiled, "Really? You got it?"

"Yea, you were doing the whole reverse psychology thing that we learned last week in psych class, right? Trying to make me realize that I'll do _anything _to save Ginny."

"Correct. I find that class notoriously inflexible. Father suggested I try a practical approach to gain a better understanding of it. Nice to see that my hard work has paid off," he finished with his trademark gloating sneer. Well at least Draco wasn't sitting in with a shrink for a 'practical approach.' Resigned to his faith, Harry went into Draco's capable hands.

For the next forty minutes, Draco played fetish dress up with Harry, going through all the clothes until they found something they could both agree on. Unwilling to waste any more precious time the pale blonde shoved his reluctant friend back into the bathroom with strict orders to change. "The sooner you're ready, the sooner you can save the Weaselette, and we can be on our marry little way."

That sounded like a really good plan, but Harry wasn't really keen on saving anyone but himself at the moment. Wrapped in his towel and sitting on the edge of the tub, Harry looked at the clothes he was about to put on with distain. They were ridiculous! The _least_ outrageous outfit Draco had made him try on, but still utter ridiculous.

At first Draco wanted Harry in a leather cat suit like the women on the cover. Later, Harry would feel offended that his friend wanted to put him the girl costume. He wasn't bloody _Catwoman_ for Pete's sake! Next it had been a pair of chap which completely exposed his ass. After that a pair of high wasted shorts that covered about as much of his ass as the chaps did, combined with a harness looking thing that he was guessed went around his torso. On and on they went, Draco growing frustrated at Harry's refusal. Some part of the black haired teen was beginning to think that Draco was having too much fun with all of this, and at his expense.

"Harry we need to go; its past midnight! Hurry up!" Draco pounded on the bathroom door yelling. Harry sighed. "And stop _bloody_ sighing Potter!" Maybe the next time he was about to sigh, he should just hold his breath and drop dead. At this point, it seemed liked perfect solution.

Damn him and his hero complex. The next time someone asked for his help, he was declining. But he'd already come this far, and Harry James Potter was not a quitter, and he was not a deserter. He'd told Ron he was going to bring Ginny back safe and sound so that's what he intended to do.

With his last bit of hesitation momentarily forgotten thanks to his his passionate mental speech, Harry quickly grabbed the clothes and began adorning them before his courage ran out.

Outside, Draco began eating his lobster that had _finally_ arrived when he heard Harry rustling around in the bathroom. Good. It was about bloody time. Not for the first time the Malfoy heir found himself contemplating his unorthodox friend.

How they even _became_ friends Draco still wasn't sure. They'd actually been enemies since they first met in elementary school. Eternal rivals. They competed in everything. Harry called him a prick. Draco made fun of him for wearing huge hand-me-down clothes. Then Harry would say he looked like a frosty blonde popsicle. Which made Draco turn red and spout promises to tell his father on him.

Such good times.

But somewhere through their bickering and fighting, Draco discovered that Harry Potter was quite possibly the nicest person in existence. Which normally made him puke, but with Harry it was different. During junior year of high school, Draco's father was rumored to be doing business with some questionable people. The media got wind of the rumor somehow and the next day Draco's world was upside down. All of a sudden his family name was splattered on the front page of ever tabloid, his father almost lost the company, and his family had come close to being forcibly evicted from their ancestral home.

In a time when his world was being ripped at the seams, the only person that gave him a kind word of encouragement was Potter. At first Draco was sure it just some ploy. After all, _everyone _knew that no matter what was happening then, eventually things would be fixed, and the Malfoy's would be on top again. It would have been an opportune time for anyone to make connections with him. A very coy but fruitful strategy, one that Draco probably would have used if someone else had been in his position. It only took a few days for Draco to realize that Harry just wasn't like that.

Nope, Potter was the Golden Boy that everyone always claimed he was. What he thought was just a show for those around him, turned out to be truly just who Harry was. He was sweet, and considerate, and always willing to offer a helping hand. He stood up for the little guys, danced with ugly girls that no one else would, and was just well…quite perfect. The boy didn't have a mean selfish bone is his body. Draco found it all a bit sickening at times. Until he had been on the receiving end of it.

They'd been friends since. When graduation came along, they'd both been accepted Oxford, and agreed to share a flat close to campus. It worked out for everyone since Harry didn't want to live alone and Ron and Hermione wanted to get a place of their own, and Draco just thought it would be nice to live with a friend.

So far it had been great. Harry was always getting into something, and on nights when he wasn't doing anything of importance Draco usually tagged along for the thrill. Though he usually ended up helping somehow. It was all very fun- not that he'd ever admit that to Harry. But this little adventure Harry had dragged him into…it was by far the best. Draco was having the time of his life. Yes most of it was at Harry expense but that was to be expected because only Harry could manage to get involved as something as crazy as rescuing a 16 year old girl from an underground BDSM club. The sound of a door opening pulled Draco out of his nostalgia just in time to see Harry shamble out of the bathroom bashfully.

As a Malfoy, Draco was skilled in the art of keeping a neutral face in even the most dire of circumstance. But not even his proper upbringing could have stopped his jaw from hitting the floor when he saw Harry.

"Don't. You. Dare. Laugh," Harry hissed vehemently.

Draco just gulped. "Trust me Harry, for once, laughing isn't what I want to do right now." No, right now he just wanted to eat his best friend alive. Who knew the innocent little Golden Boy was so delicious looking!

From head to toe Harry looked like sin and sex personified. The black leather pants they had finally agreed on clung to Harry's legs and thighs, hugging his ass before ridding low on his hips. Next were the suspenders made of the same texture and color. With no shirt, they contrasted nicely against Harry's natural creamy complexion, calling attention to his rose colored nipples. And that was it. Well except for the-

"Are you wearing it?" Draco whispered hoarsely, partially in desire, the other in disbelief. The way Harry's face bloomed red was all the confirmation he needed.

"I- I couldn't get the pants on…you know with my briefs on. I didn't want to!"

"…Can I see it?"

"What? God dammit no Draco! No you cannot see the thong!"

"…Just a little strap?"

"…"

Draco pouted. "Fine then. After all my hard work and I can't even get a little flash. But whatever, you look good. You'll have no problem getting in, that's for sure. You look something straight out of that book."

Harry just folded his arms against his naked torso. "Whatever, can we go now? The sooner I find Ginny, the sooner I can drag her ass back here and get out of this horrible outfit."

Getting up, Draco circled around his friend, inspecting his work. "Just a couple more things." He snapped his fingers and Dobby bought over another bag. The aristocrat pulled out a little white bottle. "Some Paul Mitchell's should do the trick." He squirted its contents into his hands; lathering it up before running his fingers through Harry's jet black hair.

Naturally, Harry had this gravity defying hair that could never be tamed. Even short, there was just the hint of curl in it that prevented it from laying down flat. Utilizing the wildness, Draco just added the product to make it even wilder, only pulling away when Harry's hair looked soft and sex tousled. Wiping his hands on Dobby's shirt, he then pulled out some lip balm from his coat pocket. It was pink tinged and smelled like strawberries. Dabbing some on his finger, he swiped it on Harry's lips, accentuating his naturally plump Cupid 's bow shaped mouth. Drawing back, Draco admired his handy work. He liked what he saw, but there was still something missing. "Oh that!" he exclaimed.

Harry arched an eyebrow as his friend eagerly began digging in the bag once more. And then Draco pulled out a little black stick that looked like a smaller version of one of his charcoal pencils and-

"Oh hell no! Draco, I am NOT wearing eyeliner!" he roared. His poor masculine pride couldn't possibly stand for another blow. Especially one of this magnitude. He was already short, slender, and lacking the gruff manly appearance he coveted like the kind Ron possessed. And sure he was being coerced into dressing like a gothic love slave for the sake of rescuing Ginny. But bloody hell, he drew the line at fucking _eyeliner_.

Draco seemed utterly unfazed by the daggers shooting out of Harry's viridian eyes. "I don't care what you want. Haven't you figured that out already?" Harry's eyes just narrowed a bit more. "Fine, we can do this the hard way if you like. DOBBY! Hold him down!"

A minute later and Harry was pinned to the bed with Draco sitting on his hips and forcing his eyes open as he colored the bottom lids respectively. When that was complete, only then did he get off and order Dobby to relinquish his hold. Harry sprung off the bed like a cat doused in water, but Draco still thought he looked every bit a beautiful masterpiece. The black liner only furthered to draw more attention to Harry's eyes; which said something because Harry's eyes were attention getters any day. Draco wasn't even sure someone could _buy_ contacts that came in the precise vibrant shade of green that Harry's did.

"Potter I've got say…you look almost as hot as I do. _Almost_," Draco commented proudly. Man he did some great work. Maybe he could take some pictures when Harry wasn't looking…

"Gee, thanks," he groaned. "Are you sure I can't wear a shirt though? It's cold outside."

"No," Draco said firmly. "You can take my trench," he said shrugging off said jacket. It was black and expensive; should go along perfectly with the look they were going for. He handed it over to the boy who wasted no time putting it on and wrapping it around himself like it was a protective blanket until only his head and feet were showing. Speaking of feet, those trainers were _not_ going to cut it. Thankfully they wore the same size.

Sitting on the floor Draco pulled of his black Chanel combat boots and headed them over as well. "Wear these instead." The easiest demand Draco had made all night; Harry didn't waste any time arguing.

When Draco had Harry's shoes on, he knew they were ready to go.

"Ready?"

"What the hell do you think? Of course I'm ready!" And with that Harry walked out of their hotel room, heading straight for the elevator leaving Draco to trail after him.

"Clean up this mess and then meet me in the alley." Draco commanded is little man servant who squeaked, before leaving the hotel room.

As when they first came, the ride in the elevator and the walk outside was done in silence. And then they were back in the alley way. But this time, they knew exactly what they were looking for and had no time finding it. It was easy to find now that Harry knew exactly what to look for. He'd have to thank nargles later for their stupendous help.

At the end of the alley was the old abandoned looking shop with a rusty old sign hanging overhead that read 'Platform 9¾. ' Harry didn't even realize that they had passed by it the first time they had searched the alley. It seemed to blend in with the rest of brick wall.

Standing in front of the door, Draco waited for Harry to open it. Grasping the knob he was faintly surprised the door opened so easily. As decrepit as the place looked he thought the door would be stuck or have to be forced open. Then again if it really _was_ the secret entrance, the door would need to be opened rather easily for its patrons.

Inside, the little store was barren and dark. No lights. It made the place look more uninviting and Harry's heart thud wildly in his chest.

"That hotel girl said that there's some door that leads to…a basement I think…near the back," Harry whispered in Draco's ear. His blonde haired counterpart just nodded and they continued towards the back of the shop. If there were a door that led to the basement, all the scary movies Harry had seen dictated that it was probably located in the back.

Together they made their way to the back and Harry wasn't disappointed when he saw the silver door. In such an old looking place, the door stuck out. It was the only thing new, and had to have been installed at a later time then the original stores construction. It certainly didn't match the whole rustic décor of the rest of the establishment. The boys made eye contact, and Draco nodded, prompting Harry to open the door.

Well that was…strange. It led _down_ the way a staircase to a basement should. But weren't those types of staircases made of rickety wood that gave you splinters? He said as much to Draco.

"Potter, you need to stop watching all those damn movies of yours." Whatever. He liked his movies. Especially the Disney ones. But that wasn't the important thing at the moment.

What _was_ important was going down the intricately carved, gothic looking stone spiral staircase. The 'basement' wasn't really what a regular basement looked like; just another room with no windows. Instead, the room was actually a cavern. All around were curved walls of stone arching up into what made a ceiling that. All in all it reminded him of the underside of an old bridge, or a small subway tunnel.

"Harry do you feel that?"

Harry was glad he wasn't the only one because for a second, he thought he was going crazy. It felt the place was…_shaking_. Not like angry tremors from an earthquake or anything, but a soft kind of rumble, like the ground underneath them was yawning, or like-

"Its music!" he exclaimed. It was music. The loud bass of some speaker. The walls were made of stone, which is why he figured they couldn't hear anything. But there was no hiding the _thump_ of a good speaker system. Felling more encouraged and inquisitive, Harry grabbed Draco's hand and led him down the hall.

They didn't walk for long before they finally…finally reached their destination. The hall seemed to get smaller as they approached and at the end of it was a bright red door. It seemed so out of place against the dreary gray colored stone walls. But it also served as a beacon that they had reached their destination.

They approached with caution, and when they were about five feet away, the door opened and to burly looking men stepped out. Undoubtedly the ogres. Draco and Harry both froze. There had to be some peep hole or something, or else that shit was just plain creepy.

Harry looked at Draco, who was studying the men intently. As nerve wracking as the whole ordeal had become, Draco didn't seem the least bit frazzled. If anything he had pulled his Malfoy aristocrat face on. Moments like this Harry was happy his friend was naturally so haughty and domineering. While annoying to him, it really bothered and intimidate others. Harry was hoping that the two bouncers wouldn't have his immunity to it either.

"Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to let us in?" Draco demanded coolly.

The bouncers looked at each other, and then back at the two boys.

"And just who do you thinks _yous'_ is tryin' to get into here, then?" Wow. Harry hadn't heard such butchering of the king's English since he was in primary school.

Draco merely scoffed before taking a threatening step forward, Harry right at his side. "I'm the person that is going to have you bouncing at Chucky Cheese for the rest of your lives if you don't allow my friend here entry." And that was real; Draco didn't make idle threats. He made life altering promises that had the potential to fuck up the rest of your existence. Moments like these Harry wondered how he'd ever escaped unscathed during his and Draco's rivalry. Probably had something to do with the fact that Harry's younger years were hell, and there was nothing even he could have done to make it worse. Yep.

The two men were smarter than they sounded (well at least a little bit) because they started looking at each other nervously.

"…Well if we was to let em' in, he'd still be needin' da passcode."

"Yea, da passcode," the second ogre-like man chimed in. "Ain't no one 'llowed in without it. No matta wha."

'_And when you see the two ogres guarding the red door, give them the name of the greatest snake that ever was or ever will be'._

Finally, Harry spoke. "_Basilisk_," he said smoothly.

The bouncer looked slightly disgruntled; enough for Harry to know that he was about to gain entry to Britain's most secret elite (and perverted) hang out spot. Confident that the final step was going through the door, he turned to Draco.

"You going to be ok right?" he asked, genuinely concerned. It was a kind of long way back. And the place was creepy and dark. He didn't want anything happening to his friend.

Draco had the gal to look affronted by Harry's apprehension. "Save your feminine concern, Harry."

"I'm just trying to be a good friend and make sure you're not too scared to walk back to the hotel alone-"

"Me afraid? Says the person who can't sleep without a nightlight in the bathroom," Draco smirked. Harry's face reddened.

"That shit isn't funny Drake! I told you never to mention that out loud you spoiled prat!" Dear god, he just hoped the bouncers hadn't heard that. The chortling laughter behind him told him he hadn't been that lucky.

"Don't soil your little panties Potter…if you can even call that scrap of material you're wearing, panties. Beside I just got a text from Dobby, he's upstairs waiting for me in the lobby of that shanty." Harry's eye's widened in disbelief.

"…Wait, you have service down here?" He pulled his own phone out of the coat pocket. Not a single bloody bar.

Draco sneered at him."Duh. iPhone"

Harry just rolled his eyes before replacing his piece of crap 11th century Nokia back in his pocket. "Whatever. Just be safe ok. And text me when you back at the hotel."

His blonde friend nodded. "Alright _Mother_. Text _me_ when you rescue the Weaselette. You know…if you have service." There was a cheeky grin as he turned around and started walking down the hall. Harry watched him go until he was out of sight, disappearing around the corner.

He then turned around and strode purposely up to the door. Everything they'd done all night; the humiliation, the attacks on his manhood, all of it had been for this moment right here. There was no going back. Not that he ever would regardless.

And so gathering his legendary courage and bravery, Harry crossed the threshold of the little red door, into a world he'd never known existed until almost less than an hour ago. Courtesy of Draco and that damned book.

Unfortunately, no amount of _anything_ could have prepared Harry for what he saw when he stepped into the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

1) Yay! So RR and let me know what you think. Like i mentioned before i'm writing from my own imagine, combined with some research i did for a paper. Right now im just layin foundation for the story, but later I'm going to be introducing a lot of things (phsyical as well as theoretical) things into the stoy that you won't be familiar with unless you know a little something about the BDSM lifestyle. So if you have any questions feel free to leave them in a reivew and i'll answer them in the next Authors Notes!

2) In case anyone was wondering, Harry and Draco are _just_ friends. I'm all about intense bromances, so I wanted them to be pretty close. I like Ron and Hermoine, and they will be in the story, but they're together, and i didn't want Harry to be a third wheel. Also, i just feel like Draco and Harry compliment each other in the most opposite of ways, and their interactions jus work for me.

3) My story name was just a random choosing of words to match the acronym BDSM. How many of you caught it? ^_^

4) I like Ginny, but i always felt there was this sense of reckless abandon about her that was capable of getting her into sticky situations. She just seems like the kind of person who would be interest in finding out something, and going to extremes to meet her goal.

5) Next chapter we'll get to see out unfriendly neighborhood Tom Riddle!

-Peacock


	2. Chapter 2

**Tom/Harry**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything

**Warnings**: Taboo material (BDSM) that might be weird for some people, and of course, Harry's potty mouth.

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

**_"I'm not some….sacrificial lamb, or whatever else crazy you were thinking."_**

This wasn't supposed to be happening. _Bloody hell_ this could NOT be happening to him! '_For the love of all things good and holy, God…why me?_' Harry lamented as he looked around the sparsely lit club. He wasn't quite sure _what_ he had been expecting, but definitely hadn't signed up for _this._

There was a dance floor with people dancing and a bar with people drinking. There was a lounge where people were talking. And that was all. No whips or chains hanging from the walls. No girls dressed in little school girl outfits. No sexual depravities or people taking part in. It was all…normal.

It looked just like a regular club. Sure a little more lavish then the ones he went to. The people at the bar were drinking champagne instead of beer, and the people dancing were listening to something other than the normal dubstep music DJs played. '_It's just a normal club._'

He'd let Draco dress him up, put _makeup _on him…all for nothing. Not only was his male pride irrevocably damaged, but now he was going to be the center of attention if he took his coat off. The whole point of his current outfit was the blend in. Looking into the sea of smartly dressed men in three piece suits and women in gowns dripping in jewels, Harry looked like kid invited to the wrong party.

"Where gonna need you to ta take off the jacket," one the bouncers mumbled, bringing Harry back from the fringe of his almost panic attack.

"No!" he said strongly, tugging Draco's coat around him like a security blanket. He was _not_ taking of the coat. There was no way in hell that was happening. He had been embarrassed enough just letting Draco force him into the clothes. If he took off the coat, Harry was sure he'd die of shame.

The burley guard was unhindered by Harry's protest. "You can't ave the jacket on. We ave to search you-"

Harry's eyes snapped away from the club to glance at the man talking to him. "Search me? For what?"

"We don't know…that's why we ave to search in the first place." He spoke to Harry as if trying to explain to a child why they shouldn't touch a hot stove. Harry didn't even have enough time to feel offended before the other bouncer grabbed his arm, and proceeded to yank it out of the coat. He struggled valiantly, unwilling to lose the only thing protecting him from the gazes he knew he was going to attract. His breath caught when the second bouncer grabbed his other arm, roughly tugging the jacket until he bared before their eyes.

Even in the darkness of the club, Harry could see both the men's eye widen at his attire. Or lack thereof. However, stubborn as always he refused to be cowed and glared at both of the offenders without remorse. He'd patch up his pride and dignity later, but right now he had to put on his brave face. He would not let anyone see him sweat.

"Obviously, I don't have any weapons," Harry said coolly. "So if you don't mind giving me my jacket back."

The bouncers were broken out of their surprised stupor at the sound of Harry's voice. The one currently holding his coat broke into a deviant smile that made the hair on Harry's neck stand up and his stomach plummet at his words.

"No, I don't think you'll be gettin it back mate. See, we gots orders to follow. Else…we'll be bouncing at _Chucky Cheeses_," he said with a satisfied grin on his face.

'_Curse Draco to all seven layers of hell_,'

"Look, I'm sorry about my friend. As you can see he's a prat. He didn't mean anything by it, so…just let me have my jacket so I can be out of your way."

The other troll shook his massive head. "Uh uh."

Harry stared at bout men, horrified. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He'd found himself in some pretty crazy predicaments before, usually at the behest of his friends, but this one took the bloody cake. But what could he do? Keep arguing with the two Neanderthals, consequently wasting time finding Ginny. Or finish what he came to do as quickly as possible and be out before his nerve wavered.

He sighed. "Fine," and turned away from the cackling guards and headed for the bar. Hopefully he could take a seat there, try to look as inconspicuous as possible, find Ginny, and be out before anyone even noticed his presence.

* * *

Up in the VIP section, Ginny was having the time of her life. So far the night had been everything she thought it was going to be and _more_. At the very beginning of her plan, of course she had some doubts, but now, it seemed like everything was coming full circle. She'd waited for this moment for almost three months, and it was happening.

He wanted to draw up a contract with her, and Ginny's heart soured at the future possibilities that awaited her. It was all so surreal.

When she began her correspondence with Tom Riddle a couple of months prior, she was just looking for answers. Some insight into the thoughts in her head and the feelings in her soul. She would even go so far as saying that she was looking for understanding, caring and maybe even a friend. But the more emails she exchanged with the elusive man the more she realized that that wasn't what she had been searching for at all. No, what she wanted was a mentor. Someone to guide her, teach, and help her along her own journey into this lifestyle that she was interested in. And Tom was going to be the one to do it. Surreal indeed.

To think that what started as a quest for stronger reading material had three months later landed her in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle taking an interest in her. It was all so overwhelming, but she wasn't afraid. _This_ was what she wanted, and she was honest in her answer to Tom when he asked her about it. The intimate conversation replayed over in her head.

"You're young, Ginevra." He always called her by her full name. She used to hate it, but the way Tom said it made her feel older, more mature, and all of a sudden more worthy of his attention. "Sometimes interest can be mistaken for true desire. What makes you so sure that_ this_ is what you truly desire?"

She thought about lying to him. But she had already lied once and didn't want to make a habit of it. Plus, she didn't think this topic was something she could get away lying to him about. Tom Riddle was one of Britain's most infamous dominants. He was picky in his selection of submissives, a firm man people said, often bordering on cruel and sadistic. But the people that had the honor of being chosen by him were so enthralled, sang his praises so loud that his repute and nature made sure he was always in the highest demand. He had experience. She wanted that. And to get the best experience possible, she needed to be honest and upfront. She'd already lied about her age, telling him she was eighteen instead of sixteen. Some dominants would have taken her nonetheless but she knew Tom Riddle wasn't one of them. Trust was one of the biggest parts of the lifestyle and she had already tarnished it, even though it was with good intent. But she promised herself that she wouldn't lie to him again.

What made her so sure that this was what she truly desired, wanted above all things?

"Nothing," she'd whispered voice clogged with uncertainty. "I _don't _know that this is what I truly want. But I want the opportunity to find out if it is." She took a deep breath, steeling herself before going on.

"I'm not afraid of trying. That would be stupid. But I am afraid of trying for the wrong reason. That I'll go with the right intentions, but lie and fake my way through it. And that's not what I want. I want to try…but I need the opportunity, the experience, even if I can only make it through once…I need that to be _real_. I'm not always sure why though?

"Sometimes I think this nothing more than a base desire to be with a man. The idea of what a man should be is differs from person to person. To me, men are creatures who know what they want, have no need for petty games, and conquer their desires. _I want to be conquered._ Boys don't know what they desire, not really. Let alone how to take hold of it. I'm so _tired_ of boys. I'm tired of being in charge _all_ the time. Being the mature one, the one that makes the choices, the one that leads. I can follow someone. I _want_ to follow someone. But no gives me the chance.

"Other times, I imagine I'm simply interested in the idea of someone _trying_ to break me. I say try because I'm really confident in my ability to not only remain intact, but to do so with a bit of cheek and sass. I'm stubborn, resilient, sometimes stupid in my unwillingness to back-down, and the idea that I would bend to anyone's will other then my own is laughable. And it might seem conceited for me to say all this, having only books to go on, but I am just that conceited to believe so until proven otherwise. I want someone to try and prove me otherwise.

"Finally, sometimes I chalk up this desire as the fallout of too many BDSM books that I've romanticized. _The Story of O_, _Exit to Eden_, _Dances with Werewolves_, _Chronicles of Sleeping_ _Beauty_, _Justine_, even _Venus in Furs_, and all the modern ones you find in the naughty section of any bookstore. Admittedly, most of these stories don't conclude with the stereotypical 'happy ending,' but those are kind of unrealistic anyways.

"I want to see, and learn, but mostly I want to experience. And I really, really hope that it's everything I've been hoping for.

"So I guess what I'm attempting to say without being overly cliché, which I think is impossible at this point is that I know what I want…but I _don't _know what I want. Honestly, I'm not even sure what I want you to say, or what I expected when I came here tonight." The end of her little rant seemed so anticlimactic. She'd just bared herself to a man at least ten years her senior in the hopes of something that she couldn't even name properly. It was exhilarating and life threatening all at the same time.

For his part, Tom Riddle has just listened and watched. By the time her little explanation was over, he would have said he was almost fascinated with the girl. _Almost_. Her desire, as she had just articulated was perhaps the most honest explanation he had ever heard from _anyone_. The honesty was refreshing, and her almost innocent curiosity was…cute. Most people didn't understand what the lifestyle meant; only what they _thought_ it entailed. To hear the young and clearly inexperienced Ginevra speak so openly just about endeared her to him. Except Tom Riddle didn't do endearments, and while interesting, she was still just like the rest. Curious, besotted, and easily enthralled with and by him.

Their email correspondence had been more for the girls benefit. How she stumbled upon the Chamber of Secrets website, he'd look into later, but there was a spark in her that he could see in the first email. So he continued conversing with her. She had a lot of questions, a lot of theories, and a lot of eagerness that continued to grow with every response he sent back to her. And like a newborn puppy waiting amougnst its littermates to be picked up and brought home by it's new master- that's how she looked at him when they had finally met in person tonight. That's how _everyone_ looked at him.

Truth be told the only reason he indulged her was because he _was_ indeed on the scout for a new potential submissive. His last long term affiliation had ended about six months prior to their meeting tonight and he could feel the dark desires in him stirring relentlessly. Of course he could have partaken in short term dalliances, and he did on occasion. But that got old quickly. Playing with a toy that wasn't your own provided more hindrances then was worth the actual session. He left always feeling unfilled and never sated. An unstated Tom Riddle, was a _bad_ Tom Riddle.

He looked across the mini table at his guest. She was pleasant enough. The red hair was vulgar, but he could look past it. She had that _look_ on her face like past potentials before her; eagerness, adoration, and a willingness to give all for the smallest chance at his affections. She was new to the lifestyle. It would be fun to train her, he supposed. And there _was_ a bit of potential. So why did he still feel so bored?

He didn't do well feeling so jaded, but it seemed like that was all he was capable of experiencing for the past couple of months. _Nothing_ satisfied him anymore. Everything in his personal life had suddenly become a bore, and it shouldn't be like that. He was at the zenith of his power with his company and still rising. He'd accomplished one of his goals, making the cover of Forbes only two months ago. He had everything he wanted, and what he didn't have, he could _get_. So the feelings of restlessness and from where they stemmed, Tom was at a lost to say.

Normally when these bothersome bouts of boredom hit, he took a submissive. The lifestyle suited his innate need and desire to dominate, control, and be obeyed. That's why he made the Chamber of Secrets. So that not only could he indulge in the dark recesses of his soul, but he could do so with other like minded people as well. And most of the time _that _was enough. But now, even his favorite pastime had become just another bore. He was just so tired of it.

Tired of the _look_, tired of how easy it was to beguile people with a few words, a charming smile and a handsome face. Tired of the easiest with which he procured all his partners and the almost repetitiveness in which his dalliances began and ended.

There was a time when every person he took was a new territory to be conquered, a new victim to break, a new student to teach. He exalted in the time and effort, in the journey, that he took and forced his companions to go on. There was a time when the looks of adoration aroused him and the worship bestowed upon him was more heady and filling then the most expensive of wines. And he _missed_ it.

The girl was interesting, yes, but nothing different. Nothing special. In the end she would prove to be just another faceless individual that wouldn't be worth remembering. Someone to be grouped along with his string of partners and forgotten just as easily as the others had been. He wanted to sigh. The monotonous nature of it all was almost enough to make him sick.

He stood up, and the girl almost had to lean back to look up at him, such was his exponential height. Taking one last drag of his cigarette he flicked it carelessly on the floor (someone would come clean it up) and began walking down the stairs that led to the VIP section. He'd offered her a contract and he knew she was going to accept. Even a novice such as she was not unaware of his reputation and the prestige that came with being his current plaything. No one ever resisted becoming the so called apple of his eye, even if it only lasted a couple of months. That was one thing_ all_ his submissives had in common. All his contracts ended after three months. That was all the time Tom was allowed before he grew bored.

She stood quickly almost stumbling in her haste and excitement before following in line behind him. Without words they made their way past the lively dance floor and bar, heading towards the back of the club. His office perhaps? Ginny was about to ask when she felt a sharp tug on her arm that made her whip around, only to lock gazes with a beautiful pair of familiar green eyes.

"Ginny?" Oh shit, it _was_ Harry! All she could do was stare into the face of her first crush, and present good friend. Oh god, what was she going to do? What was she going to tell him? What…

"Harry, what the hell is on your face?" she asked completely perplexed by the darkness around his eyes that made the green even more prominent. "Is that…oh my God, Harry! Why earth are you wearing eyeliner?"

Even in the dark Ginny could see the bloom of color grow on Harry's face. "We aren't going to focus on _me_ right now Ginny," he muttered angrily. "What the hell are _you_ doing in this place?" he asked, but didn't wait for a response as he begin dragging her towards the entrance. "Ron has been worried _sick _about you. Can't believe you'd pull a stunt like this-"

The shock of seeing Harry in the _last _place she expected to see anyone rendered her speechless, and while her mouth was taking a hiatus, her eyes took in Harry.

There were absolutely know words to describe how amazing Harry looked in the ridiculous outfit he was currently wearing. She knew her brother's best friend ran track all during high school, and it defiantly paid off. While not overly muscular there was underlying hint of toned muscle in his lithe body that made Harry look almost powerful. His outward physical strength however was squished in combination with the tight leather pants that were hanging low on his hips and-

Was that what she thought it was? Gaining control of her body she put her foot down and yanked her arm out her friend's grip. He wheeled around looking like he was about to say something furious at her, but Ginny beat him to the punch. "Harry, are you wearing a _thong?_" Ok, now she was completely scandalized. There were something eyes just should never see. The tantalizing glimpse of the thin strap of black peaking up out of his tight pants, and resting contentedly on his creamy hip was one of those things.

"Ginny, you are never to speak of his again. I had to dress this way to come rescue you-" wait, rescue her? "from being a sacrificial red-haired lamb sent to slaughter-" ok, that was just creepy, "so it's really all your fault!" Oh it was?

Glaring at Harry, Ginny placed her hands on her hips in a very Molly Weasley-like impersonation of her mother. "I don't remember asking you to come and rescue me Harry. I'm here because I want to be…not because I'm some….sacrificial lamb, or whatever else crazy you were thinking. Now leave," she said firmly.

It was Harry's turn to be shocked. That ungrateful little chit. He'd sacrificed his pride and his dignity to come and find her. He was wearing leather and make up, and a bloody _thong_…all so he could come and save her. And she didn't _want_ it. Well that didn't matter because he was did not subject himself to Draco's cruelty for nothing. Play time was over.

Gripping her hand again, this time more firmly, Harry's poisonous green eyes contracted in righteous anger and determination. He was going to give her a piece of _his _mind, but before could utter a word…they were interrupted by a cool voice.

"Does their seem to be a problem here?"

And just like that, Ginny's night was shot to shit.

* * *

Oooohhhh Ginny's been a bad girl, making Harry suffer unneedlessly and lying to Tom. He won't be to happy about that either.

Next: Tom and Harry offically meet, and the depth of Harry's determination is called into question.

Review and let me know what you think. This chapter was hard for me to write for some reason.

-Peacock


	3. Chapter 3

**Tom/Harry**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything

**Warnings**: Taboo material (BDSM) that might be weird for some people, and of course, Harry's potty mouth.

**P.S.** I just wanna say, that I love Harry! He's so much fun to write.

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

**_"Yeah yeah yeah! Fine, whatever, you can have...wait, what!"_**

Ginny blanched at the sound of Tom's voice, quickly spinning around only to find him staring intently at Harry. His eye was quirked as he undoubtedly tried to make sense of Harry's attire. She had to get Harry out of there. Quick. She loved her friend dearly. He had a good heart and was possibly the kindest person she ever had the chance of meeting. But right now he was unwanted, and while Harry's heart was always in the right place, his head often wasn't.

Harry was rash, impulsive, quick to action and slow to thoughts of any consequences that might befall. He was brave and loyal; almost to a fault. His belief that he had to dress up like he was coming to a leather bar was proof enough of that. Ginny knew that when Harry was determined and fixated on something he wouldn't let it rest until he achieved an outcome he was satisfied with. His presence there could only mean that she was his current focus and if Ginny allowed things to go any further, Harry would ruin everything. And good intentions aside, she might never forgive him for it if he messed up her opportunity.

She'd been so confused about everything. About herself and the peculiar desires that raced through her mind. Curiosity made her look sneak through the pile of magazines under Ron's bed when she had been fourteen and their contents had been pretty standard; naked voluptuous women showcasing tantalizing peeks at their naked parts. They were fascinating. She had just started going through puberty (an unfortunate late bloomer) and the images of what her body might develop into held a sort of fascination for Ginny. So whenever he wasn't around, she snuck into his room and looked through the catalogues of naked women like it was just another clothing magazine.

For weeks this went on, until one day a particular magazine had an ad section in the back with a picture of a woman tied up in ropes, a ball in her mouth, and a man standing in front of her smiling darkly holding what appeared to be a paddle. Shocked by the image, she'd dropped the magazine and ran to her room.

She was even more shocked at the way the image haunted her for the next couple of days.

She just couldn't stop _thinking_ about it. She was so curious and dare she say it, positively fascinated by what she had seen. None of the other pictures had captured her attention the way that one did and she didn't know why. She only knew that it couldn't be normal because what person in their right mind would be interested in something like _that._ Even curiosity for curiosity's sake didn't make her feel better about her continued thoughts on the photo. The shame she felt at her continued recollection of it prohibited her from going back to her brother's room, but only for a while.

When Ginny finally chalked up the courage to revisit her brother's porno stash, in particular _that_ picture, Ginny was almost sick. But she stowed it away, locked up her hidden shame and mortification long enough to gaze upon the picture again. She stared so long at it, unintentionally memorizing every little detail- the bright redness of the ball gag, the way the ropes dug into the woman's flesh, the tantalizing size of the paddle, the combined look of fear and desire in her eyes and the predatory gaze of the man's.

From that moment on Ginny's life had been dedicated to learning more about…_that_. And all the books, all the websites, all the emails…they had dutifully led to her to her current location. After two years of research, she was finally about to do some field testing. And with Tom Riddle of all people.

So you see, it wasn't that she didn't appreciate and love Harry for coming to what he thought was her aid because she did- it was that she'd spent the last two years confused, scared, ashamed and closeted about her desires and her opportunity to figure it all out was standing only several feet away from her. She was not about to go back to pretending to she was normal. She wasn't going to go back pretending to be into vanilla sex because she was too ashamed to tell her boyfriends her wants and needs. She wasn't going to be _alone _anymore_. _

She _wasn't._

Risking the chance of looking away from Riddle, Ginny turned around to face Harry who was gazing rebelliously at Tom. "Harry," she whispered hurriedly, "I'm sorry about everything, but you've got it all wrong, I _want _to be here, so you have to leave. Now. Please?" The only response Harry gave her plea was to cross his arms against his bare torso, not relinquishing his gaze from Tom. She tried again, allowing the desperation to seep into her voice. She _had_ to make him understand.

"Harry, please? I swear I'll explain everything later, but for now, j-just _trust_ me."

Whatever was happening had gone on long enough. Tom wanted some answers. "Ginevra-"

"Trust? You expect me to _trust _you?" Harry asked incredulously. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Harry, I-"

"You sneak out of the house while you're parents are away. You don't tell anywhere where you're going, who you're going with, or when you think you're going to be back. You don't answer your cell when Ron Hermione and I _bombard_ your phone with calls and text messages. You make us all _sick_ with worry. Ron is on the verge of calling the cops and trying to figure out a way to tell Molly and Arthur that he lost their only daughter, Hermione is in _tears_, and I'm searching dark alleyways praying to every god I've ever read about that you haven't been kidnapped, raped, or _killed-_"

"I…" Ginny tried to intervene but found nothing to say in the face of Harry's verbal tirade. She had never experienced her friend angry before.

"Ginny, you'll be lucky if any of us ever trust you _again_."

The gravity of the situation finally hit Ginny. In all honesty she had never meant to deceive anyone. But how was she supposed to tell her brother and her friends that she was headed to a BDSM club? Could you imagine how that conversation was going to go?

She was already dealing with her own confused feelings; trying to explain them to someone else was _impossible_. Even know, in the face of Harry's wrath and disappointment, Ginny _still_ couldn't tell him. Couldn't make him understand. So she said nothing. There was nothing she _could_ say. The battle was over, and Harry Potter was the victor.

Tom remained silent during the boy's chastisement of the girl. He'd known something was out of place when he looked over his shoulder and found Ginevra being forcibly removed by a young man in…well in practically nothing.

Judging by the remarks the boy (apparently named Harry) just made, it would appear that Miss Ginevra wasn't as trustworthy as he had first assumed. The clues were in the context.

It wasn't uncommon that an eighteen year old girl might still be living with her parents, but the fact that someone had shown up looking for the little chit couldn't be coincidence. She _wasn't_ supposed to be there. Which meant there was a high risk that he had an underage girl in his club.

A surge of annoyance went through Tom at the thought of her deceit. He didn't take kindly to being lied to. The fact that she might be underage didn't really bother him. He had enough power and prestige to prevent any negative fallout about having someone of her assumed age in his establishment. He was however slightly annoyed that he wouldn't be able to have his newest conquest.

Others might have dabbled in borderline age requirements, but Tom didn't. He didn't want a child, someone he had to raise as well as teach. No, he wanted a consenting and mature adult that would be able to fully delve into and meet his own requirements for the duration of the time that they spent together. Besides, sixteen years was the legal age of consent as for as BDSM was concerned, but that came _without_ the sexual component of the lifestyle. Again, for some that might be acceptable. There were people he knew that were able to separate sex completely from their play, but Tom didn't. He never had, and he never would.

"Ginevra," he said again. The girl looked at him with shiny pleading eye. If she thought they might move him, she was sorely mistaken. Tears were a sign of weakness, and he detested everything about them and the people that utilized them. He felt no sympathy for her at all.

"It would seem that you have not been completely honest with me, something I'm sure you know I cannot abide by." The girl said nothing, merely kept looking at him with that forlorn expression on her pitiful face. "You will be escorted out, and blacklisted. Should I ever find you near here again, you will find yourself in a grave amount of trouble. Do I make myself clear?" She nodded, the tears finally falling from her eyes.

"Alright, let's go Ginny," the boy said, seemingly brushing the Tom off. Oh that wouldn't do.

"My security will escort Ginevra to the door," Tom said, his eyes piercing through the darkness of the club and boring into Harry's. "You will come with me to my office so that we might discuss the ramifications of our mutual friend's little misadventure." Once again Tom turned around and began walking away, fully expecting to be followed.

The heat in Harry's stomach had not yet dissipated even after his rant at Ginny was over. She looked utterly miserable, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to feel like he was in the wrong. He was just so angry at her selfishness. Forget the personal debacle he had to put on to get into the club; it wasn't that important compared to the grand scheme of things.

_Everyone_ had been worried and completely terrified. She had caused so much panic and for what, the chance to sneak into some fetish club. He didn't understand. Couldn't even fathom what had been going on in the girl's head. He only knew that she should have been more considerate to the people that cared about her. _Nothing_ could have been worth the panic and heartache of those involved. Nothing.

Taking a sigh to control his angry, Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He was so stressed out. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of there, go back to his flat where he could burn the clothes he was wearing and sleep until his noon midterm. "Go stand by the door. I'm going to go talk to that bloke and make sure everything is alright. Ask one the bouncers to use their phone and call Ron and let him know you're alright and that we should be home within the hour." Thankfully Ginny didn't protest, simply started walking in the direction of the red door. Harry watched until she was out of sight before spotting the man that wanted to speak with him on the other side of the room. He entered though a metal door and Harry followed behind closing the door behind him as he entered.

He was standing in a normal office. No instruments of sexual depravity anywhere to been seen. It anything, it was kind of bland.

The room was done in tones of grey and green. There was an expensive looking wood desk sitting on the far end of the room and a bookcase filled with (you guessed it) books. Other than that it was pretty sparse. No plants, no pictures. Not even a mini-fridge tucked away in the corner. Just no personality at all. Harry watched as the man sat at the plush leather chair behind his desk and gestured for him to sit down as well.

In the light of the office, Harry was able to get a good look at who he supposed was the owner of the club. The man was _tall_. Taller even than Ron which meant he was banking at a good 6'2. Harry was pretty sure that if they stood next to each other he'd only be able to reach his shoulder. Like his patrons he was dressed in a form fitting suit of all black that was offset by the shock of his solid crimson tie. Even sitting behind the desk Harry could make out the muscle beneath the clothing. He had a powerful build and probably only two percent body fat on his entire frame. Harry was caught between feeling self-conscious and jealous. Puberty was such as asshole to him.

The man's face was also something to be jealous about.

Harry wasn't sure had ever seen a mean that could be so beautiful and so masculine at the same time. Honestly, the man had a face like _murder._ Aristocratic feature were framed with brown hair so dark it looked black. Short and parted to the side, he had the kind of hair Harry always tired (and failed) to achieve; immaculate and orderly. The cheeks were high, the mouth was full, and the eyes….those eyes.

Harry didn't like the eyes.

They weren't _people_ eyes. He was in college to be a photographer. Yes some would call it a waste of time and a poor choice in major, but Harry loved it. There was something so fascinating about being able to capture moments- joyous moments, sad moments, tearful moments, surprise moments, all kinds of moments with just the snap of a button. So he spent a great deal of time looking. Sometimes at the world around them, but mostly the people who inhabited it. And as the man with the camera, people spent a lot of time looking back at him so he was fairly acquainted with all types of eyes. But he'd never seen eyes like that on anyone.

There was a hunger in the dark blue gaze that seemed inhumane, unearthly. His eyes made Harry feel unsafe and vulnerable like the man was dissecting him. Like he had just fallen into some sort of trap and was about to be eaten. Like he was laughing with people only to realize that the people were laughing _at_ him_. _Harry had always considered himself independent and strong, so it was understandable that someone's gaze making him feel like Bambi walking through the forest during hunting season, made him very uncomfortable. He just wanted to leave. Now.

"I take it you're the owner." It was a statement, not a question. Of course this was the owner. Only owners had a private office and were able to blacklist people.

The haughty quirk of the man's lips made Harry want to slit his throat. "Yes, I'm Tom Riddle, owner of this establishment. And you would be?"

He couldn't believe he was conversing with the man that created a fetish bar. "Harry Potter," he said dourly. He was angry and tired and stressed, and quite sleepy. "Thank for kicking out Ginny. She probably would have just come back later, so…thanks for making sure that she can't."

"Oh please don't thank me." Ok… "I didn't do it out of the kindness of my heart." Harry couldn't stop his mouth from parting in shock. Five minutes in and Harry was already offended. He had never meant someone so blunt and rude before. Talk about abrasive.

Gaining his composure, Harry stood up and regretted doing it when Tom's feral eyes stared unabashedly at his partial nakedness. He tried not to come off as uncomfortable as he appeared, but gave into the desire to cross his arms against his chest in an effort to preserve his modesty. "Well for whatever reason you did, thanks nonetheless." Good now he could go. Or at least he thought, but he didn't even get to take one step before Tom's voice drew his attention back to its owner.

"What are you going to do with her?" Harry must have looked as confused as he felt because Tom clarified his question. "From what I gathered from your conversation, it appeared she came of her own volition. Yes, by dubious and un-honest means, but she _chose_ to come here.

"I made this club with the intention of having only a certain clientele know its whereabouts and how to get in. I spared no expense in an effort to keep The Chamber of Secrets just that; a secret. With that understanding in mind, you must therefore comprehend that the means in which Ginevra took to get here were extensive. In other words…she knew exactly what she wanted, and she found the means to seek it out. That kind of determination won't be stopped just because she won't be getting into _my _establishment. " He smiled in a predatory way that made Harry's palms sweat. "You've thwarted only one attempt, to only one place. And I assure you, there are _other_ places such as mine in which Ginny can seek whatever it is she's looking for."

Harry sank back into the chair despondent, his head whirling. He hadn't even considered that. And he_ knew_ Ginny. She was almost as determined and stubborn as he was. Tom was right. This could very well be just the beginning. Sure, she bore his wrath and Harry was sure she even felt a little bit bad about her actions. But that wouldn't prevent the red headed girl from still going about her own agenda.

"But she's only sixteen!"

"True. The legal consenting age in Britain for those that wish to partake in the lifestyle, and therefore, old enough to indulge as she sees fit. At the moment she's only lacking the proper mentor to…show her the ropes, I suppose you could say. I'm afraid that won't be the case for too long with a girl like Ginevra," he said adding a sympathetic look on his face for effect.

Harry stared at Tom, understanding and bewilderment etched on his expressive face before furrowing his brow. "Is that why she was with you? You were going to…teach her?"

Tom nodded. "Yes. We were on the verge of-"

Suddenly Harry sprung and launched himself across the desk, killer intent on his face. It happened quickly, and Tom was only _just_ able to back away in time for Harry's fist to miss his face. The boy's momentum was lost and he ended up laying across Tom's desk scrambling to pull himself up, no doubt in an attempt to try his assault once more.

Rising from his chair, Tom grabbed the back of Harry's neck forcing his head down his desk. The black haired boy was fuming. "You right _bastard_! I'm going to kill you for trying to do anything with Ginny! She's just girl- only sixteen! You bloody- "

"Miss Ginevra came to me under the pretense of being eighteen. You're anger is misplaced in the fact that I do background checks with all my partners before proceeding. Her age would have been found out eventually." Tom explained calmly. Too calm in fact for Harry's liking as he had just attempted to smash his face in.

He continued struggling madly, attempting to weaken Tom's hold. It wasn't working. The mad had a grip of iron and the more Harry squirmed about the harder Tom squeezed down. He might even have a bruise on his neck by the time it was all said and done.

Tom simply watched, fascinated by the boy. He didn't think he'd ever met a person as expressive and emotionally capricious as Harry. One minute they were chatting, the next he was throwing himself across Tom's priceless teak desk in an attempt to avenge the girl's honor.

It was ludicrous. Such an emotional little creature.

Tom could only stare at the exquisite looking face. Those eyes were looking at him with such fury and indignation. They truly were a magnificent color, and having them directed at him with such angry passion was making Tom's mind wander.

What would those eyes look like doused in inexplicable pleasure? Would they darken? Would they widen in astonishment or narrow heatedly? He was moving around so much, trying to escape his hold. Would he writhe like that underneath Tom if he took him? Was he a screamer? A panter? A moaner? Or was he the strong silent type? Tom would bet his fortune that he was loud no matter what. And oh, such a filthy mouth if the explicit language he was currently using was anything to go by. Speaking of mouth….that mouth of his was pretty. Very pretty…and plump and pink. Such gorgeous lips. What would they look, or better yet _feel _like wrapped around his-

Tom let out a low groan at all the mental images of Harry and himself that were bombarding his mind. So many things….the possibilities seemed endless.

Still drowning in his mental imagery, Tom applied more pressure to Harry's neck making sure he was secure before walking around the table until he was standing directly behind him for further inspection.

In the office light his creamy skin had a healthy pink flush to it, no doubt from his exhortations. Tom's dark blue eyes followed the trial of the pinned man's spine all the way down until it disappeared in his leather pants. Tom stared, riveted at the lacy black strip of material that was nestled almost innocently on the boy's hip. Reaching down with his unoccupied hand, the stroked the boys exposed hip causing Harry to still momentarily before redoubling his efforts when Tom tugged gently on the thong's strap.

"Get your _fucking_ hands off of me!" he yowled angrily, attempting to bring his arms behind his body in an effort to push Tom away. Tom was of course, indifferent to the boy's endeavors gazing fixedly at the two dimples just above the boy's rear.

He was perfection.

And Tom wanted him.

Harry, faced in the opposite direction was unprepared when he felt Tom grab both his wrists behind his back and raise them in the most unbearable of angles as if he was in a strappado device.

"_Fuck!_ That hurts! Let go!" he yelled, outraged. He was only slightly mollified when he felt Tom's hand finally remove itself from his neck, but the strain he was putting on his arms rendered him incapable of moving anything but his head. And since he wasn't an owl and therefore blessed with an immeasurable amount of neck mobility, that wasn't very much. Lifting his head from the previous spot on his desk he craned his neck to the side as much as possible, but was only able to make Tom out behind him in his peripheral.

"This is harassment! You can go to jail for this! I'll make _sure_ you go to jail for this!"

Tom just chuckled. "I very much so doubt that Harry as you were the one that tried to attack me first. I'm merely a poor victim that had to defend himself." He made a tsking sound. "And I was just about to offer you some aid in keeping Ginevra under control. Oh well."

Harry who had started trying to kick Tom stilled immediately. His breath came out choppy as he confirmed what he thought, what he hoped Tom had just said. "You know a way to stop Ginny from getting into other clubs?" he asked dubiously, not trusting the man.

"Of course. One phone call from me, and I can have her banned from every club in Britain, and some other places in Europe where I have connections."

"Do it then!" How rude and demanding. Oh well, Tom would teach him some manners later.

"Why should I? I've already aided you, and look at how unkindly you've repaid me thus far. You're horribly unappreciative, Harry."

Harry cringed and took a deep sigh. Ugh he didn't want to do this. "I…apologize."

"For what," Tom pressed. Harry didn't need to see the man's face to know that he was smirking.

"For…not being appreciative." He stayed silent until Tom moved his arms up a little higher causing him to groan in pain.

"And…"

"For attacking you!" he rushed, thankful when his arms were lowered to a position not quite so painful. At this rate, his arm was going to pop out of its socket.

"Why thank you, Harry. So nice of you to apologize. Perhaps I was wrong about you after all." The playful quality of Tom's voice was beginning to grate on Harry's already limited supply of nerves. "Anything else?"

"…"

"Harry."

"…"

"I'm not a mind reader Harry."

"…Would you please help again, and stop Ginny from getting into other clubs? Please." Ugh he just wanted to vomit. Here was playing nice with some BDSM club owning _psycho_ so he could prevent Ginny from doing something stupid in the future. The things he did for those he cared about. Life would have been easier if he was born lacking a heart and moral compass.

"Harry I would delighted to help-"

"Great!"

"But as I mentioned before, I don't do things out of the kindness of my heart. If you require my help, you'll have to negotiate for it with something of equal value. And it would be remiss to not inform you that I consider my time and resources _very_ valuable." Of course the bloody bastard did.

"I don't have any money."

"The thought never crossed my mind that you did." Well that was just plain rude. College was expensive dammit!

"Well then I doubt I have anything that you would want." Stupid rich people. They were all the same. Thought they owned everything and everyone.

"Come now, don't be obtuse. I wouldn't have told you I'd be willing to trade my services if you didn't have something I desired. You _do_ indeed having something that I wish to posses."

"Well you can have it then!" Harry yelled in frustration. This little game the older man was playing wasn't fun when it started, and it certainly wasn't fun now.

But Tom _was_ having fun, and Harry missed the devious smirk that spread across his face.

"Very good then Harry…I'll have _you_."

"Yeah yeah yeah! Fine, whatever, you can have-" Harry blanched as he replayed what he just heard. "Wait, what!"

Past the point of talking Tom pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs from his back pocket. A little memento that he never left home without you could say. Harry didn't have a chance to breathe before both of his wrists were secured in them with an ominous '_clink clink.' _Satisfied that Harry wouldn't be able to do much lying across his desk with his hands cuffed behind his back, Tom took a step back to admire his handy work.

"What the fuck-"

"Harry, is _fuck_ the only angry word in your repertoire?" Harry shuddered. How was it possible to make the F word sound _that_ bad and dirty? Tom had to be a professional curser. "If so we'll be working on your vocabulary as well as…other things. I won't be saddled with a simpleton that can't find his way properly around the English language."

His raven haired beauty began struggling anew and Tom watched on in devilish delight. "I am _not_ a simpleton, and you _can't_ have me! I'm a person…not some…some _thing_ for you to torment." Oh poor Harry. He just didn't understand. But that was ok, because Tom was going to take great pleasure in _making_ him understand.

Unwilling to listen to the boy's attempts at refuting his claim, he grabbed Harry's arm, pulled him upright until he was standing, before spinning him around to face him, plopping him on the desk and opening the boys legs so he could stand in between them.

Harry was dizzy with the sudden movements, and when he finally opened his eyes, they were staring directly into Tom Riddles. Even with the extra height of the desk he only came to the man's nose. But that was still closer than he _ever _wanted to be with the older man. He didn't like their proximity one bit. The dark blue eyes were drilling into his and Harry tensed up, unwilling to give into his desire to squirm. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction.

Tom watched with something akin to delight and lust as Harry refused to be quelled, opting instead to glower defiantly up at him. He liked that spirit, and he'd enjoy breaking it down until there wasn't a bit of it left. He reached behind the boy, placing one hand on the small of his back and scooting him closer, until their groins were touching. Harry's eyes widened when he felt the bulge of Tom's erection. His other hand came around and fisted the back of the boy's hair causing him to hiss when his head was pulled back non to gently.

"On the contrary Harry, you just said I could. Besides, this is the price I demand for my assistance in your little Ginevra problem. We can work out the formalities at a later date…so for now just relax." And protests Harry was about to make were shut down when Tom crashed their lips together.

Were they kissing? It couldn't be kissing. He didn't have that much experience in that department- the only kiss he having ever partaken in was with a girl he used to like named Cho, and it having been the_ worse_ experience ever. He'd tried to erase their kiss from his mind, but in light of his current situation he found himself drawing all sorts of comparison.

For one when he and Cho kissed it had been awkward. Harry didn't know what he was doing and Cho seemed to expect him to take the lead…it had just been very weird for both of them. Well more _mortifying_ than weird. For him, anyway. Her lips had been really soft and hesitant. She'd been crying to so there was a really weird salty taste in the air around her. But their lips met, there was a bit of twisting necks (that's how they did it in the movies) and then they pulled apart. Very lackluster. Since then Harry had just believed that all kisses were like that and hadn't felt the need to take part in them. So what he was doing right now…it _couldn't_ be kissing, right? Because it was pretty _amazing._

Aside from the fact that he was handcuffed and that the man kissing him was, well a man, and a total _prick_, Harry couldn't help but think that if his first and only kiss had been like this the first time around, he'd be a total kissing slut.

Tom's lips were like a force of nature; forceful, awe-inspiring, and utterly destructive. There was no awkwardness; no feelings of uncertainty…Tom had it all under control. Like the man, the kiss was dominating and domineering, taking what he wanted without a second thought simply because he could. And Harry could do nothing but be pliant to his assault. It was making him dizzy again, but this time in a better way. Which again, was totally weird, but there was no more time to ponder because Tom chose that moment to grind his hips into Harry's.

"Ahhh!" Oh god was that _him_? He didn't know he could make noises like that. It was his damn pants fault. He could feel _everything_ Tom was doing to him as the older man's hips rocked in time to the kiss.

The more rational part of Harry's mind knew that he should be feeling mortified, disturbed…anything really _other _then little tingles of electricity that were currently shooting through his body. If there was ever a time when he needed to use his head, it was now.

But it just felt so _good_.

Every time Tom's erection brushed his own he felt a hot jolt in his neither region that traveled up to the base of his belly. There was hot lava swirling in his stomach and each time Tom's tongue touched his, each time his (it seemed he'd lost all control of bodily function) hardened cock came in blessed contact with the older man's, the lava got hotter.

He was working his way up to something. Climbing some mountain that he knew when he reached its peak he'd gladly through himself off of. And Tom was the cause of it. Fucking bastard.

While Harry was fumbling his way through the myriad of feelings and pesky thoughts Tom was invoking in him, the older man was observing.

As he'd expected the boy was _loud_, and Tom found himself utterly captivated by the little gasps and mewls he could wring from Harry's pouty cupid bow lips. He tasted sweet too; like those fruity women drinks that Tom personally couldn't stand. They however didn't bother him too much on Harry's palate. And he was just so responsive. He liked that. He _really_ liked that. You'd think the boy had never been touched intimately before. Tom was only vaguely aware of how much the thought of him being untouched excited him. He'd never cared about his previous partner's sexual history before.

"Just give in, Harry," he commanded roughly against the boy's lips before taking them into another brutal kiss. When Tom pulled away the naturally pink mouth were blazing red and swollen from his attentions. He watched in fascination was Harry's tongue crept out his mouth slowly and swiped across his lips. Tom groaned. The boy was _killing_ him.

Harry's viridian eyes fluttered before closing again as Tom aimed another hard, well placed thrust. He was close, Tom knew. The boy's sporadic breathing, the way his hips started involuntarily moving against his as Harry tried to reach his release; he wouldn't last much longer. Confident that the boy wouldn't begin struggling again, Tom let go of Harry's neck and traveled down to grab his other hip.

With the lost of Tom's hand providing balance, Harry's torso fell backwards until he was lying, wrists still handcuffed behind his back, on Tom's desk. Harry only had time to manage a feeble glare before both of Tom's hand gripped his hips and pulled until his bum was hanging off the desk. Scared that he might fall, Harry did the only thing he was capable of and wrapped his legs around Tom's hips.

Exactly what Tom wanted.

With Tom's hands free be leaned over Harry's prone figure, placing his hands on either side of the boys head and began rocking to Harry's hips again with a savagely slow and teasing pace.

"Mmm…gods!" Harry cried out. The friction was _unbearable_, and the pace was driving him _crazy_. He was almost there. So close to the peak.

"Use your nice words Harry," the overbearing prick taunted in his ear before biting down the lobe causing Harry to scream. His body was going into overload. But he wouldn't give in. Drawing all the strength that hadn't already deserted him he opened his eyes and glared into the smug face that was hovering over his.

"_Fuck_ no!"

The older man didn't seem the least bit upset over his refusal, but his eyes darkened in a way that made Harry feel cornered like an animal about to be devoured. "Keep tossing that word around Mr. Potter, and I'll be inclined to teach you _real_ meaning of the word '_fuck._'"

Harry felt himself blush at Tom's lascivious tone. What was it with the man and cussing? He made it sound so dangerous and dirty and downright (dare he say it) hot. It made his cock throb in his tight pants and as Tom reached down and pinched one his nipples, Harry's world came apart with a loud cry.

His eyes were squeezed shut, almost painfully tight. His breathing became heavier and choppier. Tom particularly liked the way Harry bit his lips in a wasted attempt to be silent. Tom watched it all, as if time was going in slow motion, soaking in every part of Harry's beautiful countenance. That look…oh boy was _defiantly_ untouched. No one came like _that_ from a little drying humping. You'd have thought Tom had actually finished fucking him instead of just grinding their clothed cocks together.

'_Well that settled it,' _Tom thought as he pulled Harry's lax body against his and removed the handcuffs. The boy must have been _really_ out of it because instead of trying to get away from him, Harry just continued to lean against his chest, gulping down oxygen like he was about to run out of it.

Post- play _anything_ wasn't something Tom had ever been interested in. Once he 'got his,' Tom usually left. But this time, not only had he not relieved himself_, _but he also didn't find himself minding the weight of Harry's lean body on his. How curious?

Bracing one hand against Harry back (he had a feeling the boy didn't have full control of his body just yet) and used the other one to cup his face.

The boys face was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and his eyes were half-lidded. Tom could make out the bright green as Harry's eyes gazed unfocusedly back at him. He looked so lethargic, like he was going to fall asleep any minute. Smirking to himself, he traced his thumb around the shape of Harry's lips, enjoying the soft texture and-

Tom hissed as Harry bit down on his thumb, pulling it out of the stubborn set of teeth and tacking a step back from the little beast.

Harry, never one to miss an opportunity for an escape, took advantage of Tom's shock and pushed himself of the table and ran (more like stumbled because his legs _still _felt like jelly) towards Tom's office door.

"Harry," against his better sense Harry turned around and was pleased with the sight of his tormenter sucking the tip of this thumb. From the metallic taste in his mouth, Harry knew his finger was bleeding and he smiled defiantly.

"Leave now if you wish, but we _will_ be meeting again. Very soon." The words were dark and Tom's countenance was stormy. Harry would be lying to himself if he said he _wasn't _slightly (only slightly) worried by the ominous threat.

But that didn't prevent him from the flipping Tom the bird before fleeing his office.

'_How delightful,'_ Tom mused still nursing his _still_ bleeding thumb. _'The little vampire.'_

Oh well. Like he told Harry, he'd be seeing him again and sooner rather than later. They had much to discuss, and even more to do, he and Harry.

Rather by the force of Tom's will, or the devotion of Harry's heart for his friend, Tom was going to make sure that their paths crossed again. And when they did…well- he looked down at his straining erection, things were _finally_ going to get interesting.

* * *

Yay another chapter!

Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments! Im glad you guys are enjoying yourselves. I know some people were kinda upset about the shortness of the last chapter AND that horrible cliffy hanger hahah so I took mercy on you.

But just so you know, I LOVE ending a chapter at the worst possible moment. Its just my thing, especially at weird moments. I also wanna want you guys to keep in mind that I'm trying to be as close to potryaing a true BDSM relationship as possible. So that means there are going to be 'slow' chapters were we have a lot of explanation and little action. Understanding comes from the mindset of 'why' an action takes place, instead on just focusing the action itself. If all I did was write just about Tom and Harry's encounters, this story would be pure smut, and that's NOT what I'm going for. As much as I love me some smut ^_^

Bottom line, I want my story to grow and develop as natrually as possible. I want my characters to do the same. And I want to give anyone who reads this a journey that they can take with Tom and Harry, because I'm on a journey writing it.

_**Thornesedge**_**: **Hi! I'm glad you excited! Ummm actually I can't say that I have. I've never seen one with Harry as anything _but _the sub. There is a really good one on called Willpower. Its SS/HP but the content is _amazing_!

**_Qazol:_**Omg this made me tear up, the part about it reading like a film, because I actually want to be a screenwriter. Lots to improve, but thanks dude!

_**Next Chapter**_: Calm before the storm, and Tom Riddle makes a surprise apperence!


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